The Summer I Forgot To Change
by Chloe Grey
Summary: Cole knows enough about change to last her a lifetime. Her friends change, her parents change, her sister changed, and her best friend changed. Cole's life is well on the verge of change. In the Sarah Dessen section becuase her books kind of inspired it.
1. Chapters 1 through 4

The Summer I Forgot to Change

1. Embry

The week before school started was the week Embry got home from summer camp. She was tall and skinny, with short black hair and a lip ring, which wasn't expected of a fifteen-year-old girl who had left home rather plump and styling strawberry blonde hair.

I stared at her, tucking my hair nervously behind my ear as she ran toward me with her black duffel bag. There was a slight smile on her face, which was all you usually got out of her, unless you told her an amazing your-mama joke.

"Hey, you," she screamed at me, "c'mere!"

Everyone in the gate turned their head, and I felt myself blush. We ran at each other and met in front of a gift shop with a sign in the window that read 'Sunny California! Don't leave without a souvenir!' I gave her a hug, and her mom showed up, panting.

"God, you run like a bat out of hell, Cole." Which was a lie, really, because I sucked at running; Embry's mom, Allie, was always telling us to wait up or slow down (my mom always insisted, clicking her tongue, that it was because she chain smoked.)

"Do not." I smiled. Embry was looking over her shoulder, avoiding her mother's eyes.

"Oh, girl, yes you d— Embry Marie Coal, what on earth have you done to your hair?" Allie put her hand on her hip as she said this, a classic mom stance.

"What? Uh, nothing, it's just dye…," she turned to face us. Mistake.

"Is- is that a lip ring? My god, is there something else you'd like to tell me? A tattoo, maybe?" and with this remark she turned around and headed to the escalators, her heels clacking along with her.

"Dang. Bust-ed." I joked, starting after Allie.

"Oh, shut up," Embry gave me a playful punch and hauled her bag to the other shoulder. "Let's hurry up, I bet we can beat her to the car."

The Volkswagen Rabbit Allie drove had always carried distinct smell of peppermint and tobacco. I had some of my best memories in the old Rabbit, and some of my worst. I think I'll have to add this experience to the latter, I thought to my self dully as a sat in the back seat, staring out the window.

"I send you to a nice camp, one you've been absolutely _dying_ to go to, and you come back looking like a model for Hot Topics."

"Topic, Mom. Hot Topic." Embry corrected, rolling her eyes. She moved her feet onto the dashboard, something she did so often that I knew the exact words coming next.

"Feet _off_ Embry. I swear you were raised in a barn yard." Allie had a thing for phrases like 'bat out of hell' and 'off like a prom dress', and, of course, 'raised in a barn yard'.

"And why would I care about some dark, creep store, anyway? Oh, that's right, my daughter is posing as a cashier." Allie also had a nag for answering her own questions.

"It's not like that, it's_ cool_. And so, by the way, are the cashiers." Embry turned up the radio, then, as to end the conversation. She picked a heavy metal station, which was new. Three months ago she could barely stand screamo.

After a long, eventless ride, through which I felt uncomfortable, we finally drove onto my street. Allie parked in her driveway, got out, and walked straight into the house. I waited for Embry to get out and push the seat up for me, and then I crawled out of the car.

"Call me." I said closing the door behind me.

"Stalk you." She finished. This was our not-so-inside-joke, copied straight out of Stick It, her favorite movie.

I smiled and ran next door to my house. When I got to the kitchen I could see Allie in the backyard smoking (my mom clicked her tongue disapprovingly), and Embry on the kitchen countertop drinking a soda. I looked away, then suddenly looked back; Embry wasn't a soda drinker, or at least she _hadn't _been.

2. The Rabbit

Embry sat on her bed, admiring my work.

"Hey, these aren't so bad," she complimented, staring at the door of her closet, which served as a mirror. Her hair was still neck length and strawberry blonde, and it was tucked behind her ears. They had cheap silver studs in them, and were tomato-red, which was my fault.

"I can not believe I did that." I laughed, sipping my Diet Coke.

"What-_ever_. Man, Cole, this is _so_ cool…Oh my God, what if my mom finds out. She'll freaking _kill_ me," but before I could respond, she interrupted, "but who cares? This is so cool!"

Embry was always a Drama Queen, but at thirteen she was in total teenager mode. It would have made my mom twitch or just plain walk away these days, but back then she had just laughed and rolled her eyes at us.

"Girls, Ray's here. I'm leaving." Allie shouted from downstairs. Ray was Allie's boyfriend when we were thirteen, or her 'victim' as Embry usually retorted with a snort.

"Call me if you need me. 'Bye."

Then we heard the door slam and Ray's Suburban drive off. I ran over to Embry's window to make sure they were gone, and when I couldn't see his car anymore I spun around.

"Okay, she's gone. Let's get ready." Embry jumped off the bed to open her closet while I made my way around her bed to the vanity. Using one hand to pull open the drawer where Embry kept all her makeup, I pulled a box out from under her bed to use as a second chair. Embry sat in it, her arms full of black and red garments.

"Time?" she inquired.

"Uh," I checked the Winnie the Pooh alarm clock by Embry's bed, "eight fifteen. God, we're going to be late. What if I miss Ben?"

"You wont. Everybody cool gets to parties late," she finished a top coat of onyx mascara then promptly said, "It's true," in response to my skeptical expression.

"How're we getting there anyway?"

"The Rabbit."

"The Rabbit? Are you serious?" I gaped.

"Dead. What? It's not like we haven't driven it before."

This was true. Once when we were ten, Allie had went into the grocery store and left her keys in the ignition. So, with a sudden burst of rebellion, Embry told me to sit under the seat and press the gas while she steered. I am proud to say we made it all the way to the cinema without crashing into anything, take or leave a few bushes, before we hit the trash can that all the junkies in town hang out behind.

"Oh, okay. You kill me, and I'll make you're life a living hell."

"Right. And you can do this…" she paused dramatically, "because you – are - dead."

"Whatever." I twirled my hair around my finger. "Clothes time."

Half an hour later, I was in Embry's kitchen, which stood adjacent to mine, calling my mom. I saw her walk into the kitchen, singing and snapping her fingers, then picking the phone up from off the floor where I'd left it earlier that day. Embry muttered something, and closed the curtain on the kitchen window so my mother wouldn't see our attire, and faint. I had on way too much makeup, a jean miniskirt, army boots, and a crimson tank top. Embry, however, wore the same size shoe as Allie, so she had on black platforms, something I thought was totally unfair. Embry was also sporting a leather jacket and red skirt.

"Makeup check?" She called to me, after I had made up an excuse my mom would buy.

"Fine. Me?"

"Fine. Let's go."

We raced through town, with the Rabbit's radio blasting some pop song we knew every word to. At the party, I had my first kiss with Ben Shiant, a freshmen who went to the local high school, which, as an eighth grader, made me cool for at least a month. We even made it back home without damaging the car, beat Allie back, and without my mom noticing we had been gone for far longer than we needed to have seen a movie. But the best, and most memorable part of that night wasn't the victory over our parents, or the knowledge that on Monday I'd be envied; it was the feeling I got riding in Allie's Volkswagen Rabbit, singing at the top of my voice, my hair blowing in the wind, and totally free.

3. Ashley

The next morning I woke up, and the awareness that I had only six days of summer left made me want to puke. Or maybe that was my hangover. I rolled out of bed, and groaned as I hit the cold carpet.

Last night Embry had called me and informed me that she was grounded until school started up again ("a whole six days! Gasp!" she had said smugly, obviously expecting much worse) and that she couldn't go back to camp again ("so? What kind of girl who is going to be a Junior wants to go to summer camp?"). I reminded her that in June, when we got off school, she had inquired what a fifteen year old would do at camp.

Embry just ignored my comment and told me to meet her on the roof in five.

When we were eight, my dad had helped us build a little "bridge" that went from my roof to Embry's. Technically, it was a piece of wood that was nailed to the chimneys, but it worked just fine. Our parents were obviously under the impression we never used it anymore, or my mother would have insisted my dad take it down. However, Embry and I still climbed out our windows and sat on it sometimes, usually just to talk, but after we started high school we began to bring beer up there, and giggle at how we were so cool for breaking the rules.

Today, on the other hand, I felt like an utter idiot as I ran to the bathroom to throw up. Gross.

"Breakfast, Nicole…Ashley, honey, don't touch that." My mom called from downstairs. I popped the cap to the Asprin and followed one down with some tap water, then I ran down to the kitchen. Through the window I could see Allie yelling at Embry, while Embry stood facing the sink, apparently ignoring her mom, and staring at me desperately. I just shrugged and mouthed 'sorry,' as I sat down at the table.

Ashley observed me during breakfast, her eyes rarely leaving my figure. Her hair was dirty blonde, like mine, but it was long and wavy while mine grew straight, and cut off abruptly at my collarbone. She stopped watching only after my mom and dad had gotten up, rinsed their plates, and left the room. I got up slowly and she followed my lead. When I finished doing my dishes, I turned to leave, but Ashley was standing in the doorframe, blocking my way.

Ugh, I just wanted to go upstairs and sleep. I was totally tired, and my head was throbbing.

"You have a hangover." She declared, her hand on her hip.

"Do not." I replied defensively. Unfortunately, my defensive tone doesn't make a very convincing counter argument.

"Yes, you do. You are totally hung over," she adjusted her square, black glasses, "Mom's just stupid."

I didn't say anything, I just pushed around her and climbed up the stairs slowly, my muscles were sore, too. Great. Note to self: avoid over drinking unless absolutely and utterly necessary.

"You're a freak, you know that?" Ashley followed me down the hall. "I mean, I could totally bust you right now. But instead, you are going to drive me to the mall later."

"Right. And why are you going anyway?" I opened my door, and leaned against the frame.

"Whatever. See you at four…" And then she walked away, muttering profanities at me under her breath.

Ashley, my _darling_ little sister, had turned twelve in July, which meant she was entering her wannabe teenager year. For anyone who doesn't know what I'm talking about, it's a time of spending hours on end in the bathroom we shared, slamming the door in people's faces, and answering every question with an absent minded 'whatever.'

I was sitting on my bed watching some show on Lifetime and drinking water when Ashley came marching in wearing shorts and a red shirt that said 'Go Away Or Pay'.

"Cole, what's pwned?" Ashley asked me, suddenly in my doorway, chomping her gum loudly.

"What? Why?" I was already annoyed with her, and she'd been here ten seconds.

"Just because. What is it, already?" She tapped her foot impatiently.

"It's like owned. Just go away, okay?"

"Whatever. Fine." She turned away, and then back, "Remember, mall at four."

I was tempted to shout 'your shirt is retarded' or something at her, just to start something, but she was already running down the stairs. Instead, I rolled my eyes and tuned out the TV, thinking about change.

My mom was tall and had dark brown hair. It had been in a ponytail all summer, and as far as I could remember, the last time I saw it down was the Saturday after I'd gotten out of school. Embry was leaving for camp Monday, so she was hanging out at my house religiously, but we were stuck babysitting Ashley while my parents went out to dinner.

Now that I thought of this, my mom and dad hadn't been out in a while… maybe since then. This, apparently, had changed also. Anyhow, the parentals were going on a date then, and I was trapped with Ashley. She was begging Embry to let her watch an R movie, and I told her that if she didn't stuff it, she'd ruin the night for all of us.

"Okay, we're leaving." My mom's face was red from laughing, and her hair was let down, framing her face perfectly. When remembered her tonight, I remembered the good mom, the nice one, the easygoing mom that she was then.

"I will see you," she said hugging me, "and you," she hugged Ashley, "in a little. Have fun."

"Be good girls. 'Bye Cole…Ashley… I'll see you in a couple months, eh, Embry." My dad smiled, then held the door open for my mom to walk through.

Once the car left, I made popcorn and Embry told Ashley that if she went to bed _right_ after the movie, then she could watch it.

"_Right _after." Embry repeated.

"Okay. You know, I'll be twelve next month. I can so watch this." She jumped around excitedly in her Carebear pajamas.

"Mhm," was all Embry replied. She was chewing on her hair, which was still longer and blonder.

However, we didn't make it through half the movie before a car pulled up. I hastily turned to Disney Channel, and Embry sighed then got up. My mom opened the door, screaming.

"I do not _care_, Rick." She slammed her purse down on top of the TV. My dad

said something I couldn't hear, which made my mother curse loudly, slam the door, and run upstairs, putting her hair into a ponytail. The ponytail that became ever existent from then on. See, my mom brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'she needs to let her hair down', which is something Allie said loads, by the way.

4. Ben Shiant

The mall was filled with people rushing around to do back to school shopping. Ashley had insisted I come in with her, probably to show off the fact that she knew a Sophomore, but she refused to walk next to me or talk to me. Eventually I told her I had things to do, and she replied how? I'll give you three quesses.

"Whatever."

"I'm serious, I do have a life." We passed Urban Outfitters and I saw a cute pair of jeans, but then I remembered I was broke.

"I know, I know. But I need you to meet someone." Ashley pulled me into Brenda's Booth, a café that was painted bright orange and red.

"Ashley. I'm busy, I'm tired, and I'm hungover. Let me leave."

"So she admits it…Here, over there, that's my boyfriend Zane." She smiled expectantly.

"You brought me here to see your _boyfriend_. I'm going home."

"_Please_," she wined. Next thing I knew I was being dragged across the room to a bright, yellow table where a boy with brown hair was sitting, smiling at Ashley and me.

"Hey." He extended a fist.

"Hi."

"Hey, Zane," Ashley blushed.

"What's up, girl," he smiled, and kissed her on the cheek.

He was a total gangster wannabe. My sister either had the worst taste in guys, or there were some serious bucks involved. I sat with them for ten whole minutes, only because my sister stomped on my foot whenever I tried to escape. Just when I was getting altogether too fed up with the two of them, Zane yelled out to someone.

"Hey, Ben, over here!" He stood up, waving his arms.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Ben Shiant staring at me. His hair was shorter, and had thick arms that could only qualify him as a football player. Different. The Ben Shiant I remembered from June, the one who had denied making out with me during his freshmen year, had an Orlando Bloom cut and a skinny figure. Now a proud almost-Junior, he strode over to our table, never taking his dark eyes off of me.

"Hey Bro," Ben was still looking at me as he greeted Zane. Then I realized it was _me _who was staring and looked, for the first time, over Ben's broad shoulder. Another guy was standing behind Ben, his hands shoved into his pockets. It was remarkable how much he resembled Daniel Radcliffe. Nice.

Zane introduced him as Dean, which, as far as boys' names go, was pretty decent. Ashley presented me as, and I quote…

"Cole. That's short for Nicole. You know, without the Ni." Insert girly giggle.

I swear I could have killed her, I mean seriously, who gives? Dean seemed to think it was pretty funny, and now he was gazing at me with a vacant expression. I blushed and turned to face Ashley. She was in a deep discussion about Jimmy and Kellie's recent fling at the movie theater.

Sighing, I got up and hedged towards the entrance to Beth's Booth. Ashley didn't seem to notice, so I made a quick getaway. I was almost at the escalators when someone yelled for me to wait up.

Turning around, I saw it was Dean, and stopped walking to wait for him. He strode over, his button-down shirt blowing in the breeze that was blowing in the mall, and tugging at my hair. He caught up to me, and smiled.

"Hi. Uh, what's… up?" I offered, unsure of what to say.

"I just wanted to give you this," and he handed me a quarter. I'm dead serious, I swear. A freaking quarter. Wait, oh my God, he had a British accent, how hot is that?

"Uh, this isn't mine…"

"I know. Keep it, though," he smiled, as if enjoying some inside joke, "I'll see

you Cole." Then he turned and left, strolling through the second floor of Bankford Mall.

"And he'd never met you before?" Embry demanded that night as we sat on the roof, drinking Diet Coke. Embry drank soda devotedly now, what she insisted was "making up for fifteen and a half years of avoiding it". I had told her about my charade at the mall with Dean, Ben, and Zane.

"Nope. I think he probably lived in town, and he's probably a Junior this year." I took a swig of my soda, thinking. Even Ben had changed this summer. Embry, Ashley, Zane, Mom… who else could possibly change?

"You know," Embry said, and I could have sworn a light bulb appeared over her head, "we should look him up in the yearbook." She sat up, stretching.

So we climbed in through Embry's window, and sat on the red comforter that covered her bed. Embry pulled a yearbook out from underneath the mattress and handed it to me. We needed a last name.

Embry seemed to comprehend this too, because after a few seconds she muttered "Damn. Go ask your sister."

"How would she know? Plus, she'd ask questions and crap." Ashley never made anything simple anymore; everything was always how or why nowadays.

"C'mon…here," she handed me the purple phone we had made in fifth grade; it was one of those 'Make Your Own!' products you could buy at gas stations. I took it reluctantly and dialed my house number.

"'Sup?" Ashley answered.

"You shouldn't answer the phone like that, it could be one of dad's business people calling."

"Caller ID, duh. What do you want?" I could hear her masticating her gum. Groan.

"You know that guy Dean from earlier? What was his last name?" Please don't ask why, please don't ask why.

"Why?"

"Um, because I thought I knew him from school, but I can't exactly remember."

"Nice one," Embry whispered from beside me. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, so I just smiled and rolled my eyes.

"Oh. Okay. I met him once before… Ben sometimes calls him Wither Man, so I'd try Wither. Sound good?"

"Yeah, great. Thanks." Embry started flipping through the Sophomore section of last years' book, going through the T's.

"Whatever. Later." Ashley hung up. Nice kid, eh?

"Got him. He really does look like Daniel Radcliffe, wow," Embry mused. The black and white picture did him justice. My own little Harry Potter.

"Look, he signed yours," I pointed to a sentence of neat, green handwriting wedged between Dean's picture and the picture above his.

"What's it say?" Embry asked. She was searching for something she'd left in the pocket of yesterday's jeans.

"Em – Have a great summer, hope to see you as a Sophomore (though its not as great as it may sound.) And a smiley face. Cute."

"Hmm. I guess I knew him. I mean, he _did_ call me Em," this was something nobody called Embry, with the exception of a drunk Allie.

My mom called just then, outraged that I was out of the house so late (twelve thirty). I sighed and Embry laughed out loud.

When I got home I dashed directly to my room, closing the door behind me. I pulled out a white tank top and plaid pajama bottoms. A quarter fell out of the pocket in my jeans, and I picked it up. Dean's voice, accent and all, shot through my head, _Keep it, though_. So I did. I put it on the white table by my bedside, clambered into bed, and fell asleep.


	2. Chapters 5 and 6

**A/N: So, it's been a while since my last update, but I've been writing other stuff and wasting time on YouTube. You know. Anyway, this is a little short as it's only two chapters opposed to four, but I'm almost finished with Chapter 7 and I figured you guys deserved an update. Here it is…**

The Summer I Forgot to Change

5. The Beauty of Sunrise

"Embry?" I could _not_ remember the last time I was up this early. My alarm clock flashed 5:04 in bright, happy numbers. Stupid thing.

"Yeah. Ohmigod, Cole, I remembered!" Embry's voice didn't sound tired in the least bit, and I'll be damned if I had to use my brain and figure out why. Brushing it off, I glanced out the window – the sky, of course, was still black.

I groaned. "Remembered what?" Sitting up in bed, because I knew I'd never fall back asleep, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder. This had better be good, because if it could have waited an hour – or five, really, – I was already planning the best way to blow up Embry's phone without it looking obvious.

"How I know Dean. Duh. He was in my art class, you know the one that you dumped for drama," she carried on in a cheerful tone. I could hear her moving around, and things beeping in the background. Getting up so that I could see – through my window – into her bedroom, I found her light was off.

"Cool. Hey, where are you?" I asked.

"Kitchen. I'm baking a cake. Wanna come over and help?" Her voice was still insanely bright. My eyes darted to her kitchen window, where, sure enough, yellow light was illuminating a dancing Embry. Who the hell could be dancing at this hour? _Embry._

I had absolutely no intentions of getting dressed, getting outside, or baking a freaking cake. But I didn't have anything better to do, either. "Yeah, okay. Why the cake, though?" I walked across the room to my dresser, stretching.

"Dunno," I could practically hear her smile. There was something _wrong_ with this chick. And, despite my sleepy state, I almost laughed at how many times I'd thought that. At least she was still crazy; that much hadn't changed.

* * *

"So, he gave you a quarter, too?"

I licked frosting off the rubber spatula. Alas, chocolate, how I love thee. "Yup. Strange, right?"

"A little," Embry agreed with a smile. "I think," she paused, stuffing our masterpiece into the fridge, "he gave me one. In art. Maybe he hands them out?" she mused.

"Right. Maybe…" I trailed off. I was sitting on Embry's kitchen counter, waving my feet in the air. Left, right, left, right, left…

"I mean, I'm sure there's some other reason… I hope, at least," I added, eventually, when Embry didn't reply. Now it was six- thirty, and the sun was making an appearance through the east window. Embry and I sat in silence, watching as it slowly crept it's way over the cloudless sky. Dean and his quarters was proving to be an amusing mystery. Or it was to me, at least, as the most action I ever got was in paperbacks from Borders.

"You should go, 'cause your mom _probably _wont buy that you woke up at five to make a cake." Embry stated finally.

"Actually, some weirdo called me, and I just happened to stumble over here in my daze," I paused, to catch her expression – which was determinedly blank – as I said this, "but you're right, she's not bound to believe that either."

"See ya'."

"'Bye, Embry."

6. Butterfingers

After pretending to wake up when my mother appeared, at ten, in my doorway, I sat up, still in the same clothes – jeans and a red Wheeler t-shirt. I sat on my the corner of my bed balancing a cell phone in one hand, and using the other to force my feet into the black hightops I'd owned all year. I walked past Ashley's room – a wave of Avril Lavigne came bursting from her computer, ("and certain guys don't understand that I don't want to hold your hand a certain time of the month…") oh, the little brat didn't know the half of it- and, really, what was so wrong with using a radio anymore? – and downstairs. Walking past the kitchen to the living room I shouted, "I'll be at the mall," to whoever happened to be listening, then skipped through the room and out the door. I hummed, throwing my car keys in the air and catching them again, until I reached my truck. I swear the white coat peeled off intentionally, daily, just to embarrass me. I sighed at my once-new car, or new-looking, as I had bought it second-hand from the school guidance counselor last year. Don't ask.

The mall was a crowded haze, typical back-to-school week. The thought hit me hard as I realized that in a mere five days school would start again. Ugh. And I'd have to take Biology. Double ugh. With a squeal, Alice Turner ran flat into me – or hugged me, I guess.

"Ohmigod. Like, Cole, it's, like, so great to see you! How was your summer?" she paused a second, not long enough for me to get a word in, just to take a deep breath, "Mine was, like, _so_ boring. I mean, I went to Italy, but it wasn't, like, _that_ exciting. I mean, everything was all old and stuff, you know?"

I forced myself to laugh, "Yeah. But I'll bet the-"

"Even though there _were_, like, really hot guys. But, like, none of them spoke English. It was kind of cool, because, like, they could be calling me pretty or something…From what I gathered, though, _mosquito_ means cute." Alice twisted a golden lock around her French-tipped finger, blowing a huge, pink bubble.

I had to bite my lip, hard, to keep from roaring with laughter. Alice had sitten by me _all_ last year in Latin… apparently I _had_ been the only one paying attention. Oh God, how I was a nerd…

"Well nice to see you, Cole," she smiled, "I gotta split." Alice nodded pointedly at a tall, bulky blond standing a yard or so behind her. She giggled and ran off, pulling him by the hand into Abercrombie and Fitch. His face was priceless.

"What a _terrible_ accent." I froze, immediately recognizing the soft, English voice. Slowly, I turned to face Dean. He smiled at me adorably, and I heard myself intake a good amount of air.

"Yeah, she is a little annoying," I moved toward him, pulling my hair out of the ponytail, which must have looked completely harassed by now. I desperately ran a hand through my hair, while trying to make the gesture as casual-looking as possible. A smile played the edges of his lips, and I figured he didn't buy my non-caring act for a second.

"Just a bit; I'd wager."

"Mhm. Very Britishly put," I commented, and a playful smirk crossed his face.

They walked side by side for a while before he abruptly halted in front of Johnny Rockets. "I _love_ this place. Want to have a quick burger?"

"Dean, everybody loves this place," _You'll have to be more original than that_, I teased. But I was _not_ going to refuse an open invitation for lunch with most likely the hottest guy I had met this summer. _Nuh_-uh. "Although, we can't have you eating alone, can we? I _guess_ I can sit with you."

"Because it would be so rude not to, yes?" he played along, though clearly not believing a word of my play-it-cool routine. Either my game was off today, or this guy actually knew how to spell 'you' - Which, let me tell you, came rare at my school.

"Of course." I replied tonelessly. I strode casually to the left, toward the Johnny Rockets entrance, while my insides were bursting with anything but casualty. My heart skipped a beat as he nonchalantly intertwined my hand with his, pulling me into a red booth near the back. He sat across from me and a playful expression settled on his face.

"Late night?" Dean asked.

Shit. I must have had circles… or something. "More like early morning. Five."

He groaned. "_Why?_"

I considered telling him, but my instinct decided against it. Instead, I half-smiled mischievously. And then completely ruined it when a full out grin pulled at my lips in response to the startled gape that crossed his face. Upon realizing what he was doing, his features cleared, quickly becoming more of a careless façade. The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a beehive hairstyle and liquid eyeliner, appeared suddenly.

"What choo' want, dears?" she drawled with a smile, handing us menus. Gotta love Johnny Rockets.

"Butterfinger shake, please," Dean and I answered together. We looked at each other and he laughed. I turned away, blushing, and rested my ear on my shoulder to hide a smile.

The waitress sighed, shaking her head and holding back a smile of her own. On her way to the back, she tossed another glance at them over her shoulder. I slowly directed my gaze back at Dean, and found him staring at me. He blinked, and looked away quickly.

"What?" I pushed some hair out of my eyes and left my hand there, afraid I had a zit or something.

"Nothing."

And the sad part was, I really had no idea why he had been staring.


	3. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey guys, I know it's been awhile. _Again_. I know this must me e****xcruciating, becuase presonally I hate waiting (specifically for this one story Ten Kisses by freak.on.a.leash.13, which I recommend highly to any Lily/James fans.) Anyway, back on subject: This is only one chapter, but it's long... or, at least, it looked long on Word, but it always seems to look longer there than here. I do have the next chapter _written_ out, but I need to type it up still. And I thought this whole part was better posted alone, for dramatic purposes. But I'll try to get it out soon. **

**And I'd really like to get some reviews, becuase there are a lot of views and favorites and everything, so I know there's people who acctually can do it. One gal in particular, Four and Twenty Blackbirds, has been awesome. Thanks, and I'll go ahead and stop boring you with the dang author's notes...**

7. Dinner and a Show

"I'll see you, Dean." I sat in my car, which was idling noisily, as he walked around the front. The mall parking lot was almost quiet. Well, there's a first for everything.

"See you-," he stopped suddenly, and took a few steps backwards, so that he was standing next to the driver's window, his head almost level with mine. "Hey, Cole… d'you want to go to dinner, with me, tonight?"

For the second time that day, I bit my lip to hold back a smile. After waiting a few seconds, mostly for dramatic purposes – hey, I didn't skip out on art for nothing – I answered softly, "Okay." And, I made sure I sounded like I had put loads of thought into it… and not screamed "YES. YES! YESS," like my head had been doing ever since he said the word 'dinner'.

"I'll see you at seven," he smiled, and walked away. It was minutes before I even realized that he didn't know where I lived, or before I even moved, for that matter.

* * *

Dean pulled up to my house in a forest green Mini. Of course he had a Mini, all British people had Minis. It was cute, though.

I pretended I hadn't seen him yet; pretended I hadn't been staring desperately out the window for the past half hour. I mean, seriously, how pathetic would that be?

And I waited to hear the doorbell before I even glanced at the stairs, because if I looked, I'd go. Running. I walked past my sister's room (more Avril), my parent's room (TV, _loud_ TV), and around the kitchen ("Honey, there's a boy at the door. Hey, Nicole, where are you going?").

Upon reaching the living room I muttered a response, making up a story subconsciously. I dodged the tan couch easily and opened the door.

Dean was on the bottom step, but had started to move his hand to ring the bell again, which meant his arm slightly brushed against mine, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. He was wearing jeans and a tan sweater with elbow-length sleeves – admittedly, a little warm for August, but incredibly cute nonetheless.

"M'lady," he smiled, almost mockingly, as he held open the passenger door for me first. I stepped in, crouching slightly to fit under the doorframe.

"Nice car," was all I replied, smirking. I fought the urge to laugh as he walked around the front of the tiny car, snapping rhythmically. Dean got in, turned on the ignition and pulled on his seatbelt. I copied him (save the whole ignition bit).

"Well, don't you look lovely," it was more a statement than question, so I just kept quiet. But again there was a kind of teasing air about Dean as his eyes swept over me. He made a U-turn in Embry's driveway and drove out toward the main street.

"What?" I looked down curiously. I had on a gray tanktop, jeans, and black heels.

He threw me a skeptical glance and I retorted, "Hey, _no one_ told me where we're _going_, so don't complain. And," I waved my hand, indicating his heavy-looking sweater, "I don't know if you've noticed, but it just so happens to be August, Mr… er – Sweatery."

Dean just smiled again, turning right. He smiled _far_ too much. Then I realized _I_ was smiling.

Embarrassed for reasons I'm not even going to think about thinking, I glanced out the window. The sky was a pinkish-blue with just a hint of purple clouds. It was seven-fifteen at the most, and the sun was already setting. This just seemed to be proof that my summer was ending. I suddenly felt the child-like urge to stick my stick my tongue out at the quickly-disappearing sun.

It was just - I finally thought the things that had been running through my mind constantly, but only now turning them into words - I felt like everything and everyone was changing. Except me. Same old Cole. And I _really_ needed to do something about that. Soon.

Dean took a left (on a red light, I might add. While I wasn't exactly a Momma's Girl, I had always followed in my mom's religious attempt to abide by traffic-laws.) I sent him a darting look, which he either didn't see or chose to ignore.

Oh, and, by the way, forget I just said 'Momma's Girl'. That'll give you a good bunch of dreams.

Looking back out the window, I saw we were in a Market Place full of cafés, diners, fancy restaurants, and ice-cream parlors. And a Shave It – you gotta love Shave It. Most of the shops were surrounded by bright, green, fake grass. A massive fountain was wedged in the center, and a cobbled patio about ten yards wide surrounded it. Dean pulled into a parking space under a big willow; the Cooper was small enough that the branches – which could easily rest on the windshield of any normal-sized car – barely scratched the roof. We got out and Dean walked me to a café/ expensive looking restaurant. The hostess guided us outside to a cherry wood table with a red umbrella towering over it. The ground was cobblestone here as well, and it blended right into the larger stones around the fountain. Dean smiled and handed the waitress a Louisiana quarter. He was tipping her already? He must think she's pretty… wait, he's on a date with _me…_ rude much?

The waitress must have been thinking along the same lines as me, because, for a second, a confused, blushing expression froze on the girl's face, and she looked like she was stuttering mutely. It was funny to watch.

A moment later, though, she cleared her expression, poured us water, and hurried away, stealing glances at Dean over her shoulder.

"So, about that…" I started, trying not to sound outraged.

"You mean the quarters, I assume. Thought you might ask, everyone does at some point," Dean paused, considering me. After a few seconds, however, he said, "I collect them. And then I give them to people that I find interesting. But, you see, I give all of my, er, 'victims' a different coin, depending on which of your lovely states they remind me of. That waitress over there, for example, made me think of New Orleans. So she got Louisiana," he pronounced 'Louisiana' _extremely_ Britishly, making me giggle a little. Deam seemed finished, and I was about to reply when he casually added, "and also it is _immensely _brilliant watching people's responses."

Dean seemed to speak like an American _most_ the time – not accent-wise, but phrase-wise – but there were also the more-than-occasional moments when his English-ness was absurdly obvious. And absurdly funny, to me, at least. I did sort of agree though, no matter how weird his little habit was, that his latter comment was right: the look on our waitresses face was picture- perfect.

And then she was back, equipped with a pair of menus this time. She handed Dean his first, and then turned to me. Her eyes held a grudgy, jealous air about them, and she calmly thrust the laminated menu at my face. Or did so as calmly as one could thrust anything.

"Thank you," I challenged. I don't really know why, it wasn't something I'd have usually done, but it was… _fun_.

"Oh, you're welcome," the waitress replied, sarcastically. She seemed to be trying really hard not to roll her eyes. Eventually she turned back to Dean, "Can I get _you_ anything to drink?"

"Mm, yes. A diet Coke, please," Dean replied slowly, curiously raising an eyebrow at me. I felt myself blush, and looked back down at the menu.

"Water," I muttered to what I could imagine was a mock-politely posed waitress. I heard her leave and continued to focus my eyes on a random spot on the menu. _Reggae Lasagna, Reggae Lasagna, Reggae La – _

"You were waiting for me at the tonight, weren't you?" Dean interrupted my train of thought. When I looked up he was still eyeing me suspiciously.

"Uh… no…," It really didn't sound that reassuring.

He smiled, winning. "I saw you looking out the window," he explained.

"But then," his smile seemed to grow both wider and smaller, if that was possible, "I do remember waiting outside the door for a rather long stretch of time."

Luckily – luckily, because I had no dignified answer, not because I was extremely happy to see her – the waitress returned once again and set our drinks down heavily – and ice cube plopped out of Dean's and the lemon slice fell off mine,

She ignored this and took a leather-covered pad out of her kilt/apron-thing.

"What can I get you guys?"

"Barbequed steak, medium-rare. French fries," Dean answered confidently, also answering all of the normal meal questions before she could ask. The waitress nodded at me.

"Um," I ran my eyes down the page, "Reggae Lasagna."

"Side?"

"Salad."

"Ten to fifteen minutes," said the waitress in a voice like a secretary would use to say 'Please hold'. She turned on her heel and stalked off.

After what I can suffice to say was an extended awkward silence, I made an attempt. Courageous, I know.

"So… tell me about… you."

Oh my, even Chuck Norris would be proud.

"Wha- Oh… I moved here from London about, say, four years ago. I have a little brother, who spends a good portion of his life on the computer. As you know, I collect quarters… hmm. Art is my favorite elective… not that you'd care too much…," his eyes flickered to mine as he said that, checking, as if to see if I really _did_, "and my dad moved out 'bout two years ago to live with our old maid. What about you?"

I was _a little_ blown away, but I didn't push anything. Instead I said, "Uh. I've lived here for, like, ever. My best friend, Embry – I think she was in your art class last year, you signed her – uh, nevermind. I have a little sister who scares me a good half the time, and… and my parents don't really talk. I can stand change, but not all that much at the same -," but I stopped, changing directions, "I like sitting by random people on planes. Something about… they're stealing looks at you, you're observing them. It's so anonymous, you know?" I paused and he nodded smartly, "And then, sometimes they'll talk to you; open up completely. Because it's like, they'll never see you again, anyway… but then, other people don't say a thing the whole way, but you catch a glimpse of what they're reading… or drawing, or writing, or whatever…" I trailed off quickly, realizing how deep I was getting. Blushing, I fidgeted with the navy blue napkin in my lap.

"Really, do you?" asked Dean. "I hate flying."

And before I could stop myself, as if I hadn't embarrassed myself enough already, I muttered, "Well, they say opposites attract."

I looked away again, internally smacking myself in the head repeatedly with an imaginary hosepipe.

But Dean still seemed seriously interested, "Okay," he laughed.

"Oh."

I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and stared intensely at the dead fly in my water glass, resting my chin in my hand. It had gotten dark, so dark that even this close to Los Angeles more than the usual few stars could be seen. It was terrible how all those big lights concealed all these tiny ones. The moon was almost full, and it was brightly reflected in the clear fountain water. Couples sat around the edge of the fountain, talking… kissing… dancing.

As if following my gaze exactly, Dean seemed to be physically struck by an idea. "Do you want to dance?"

"I don't…" I stuttered, but he was already pulling me up and over to the patio around the fountain.

"Everyone dances. Now follow my lead."

Dean started off easy, though he didn't seem to mind much. After a while, he started getting to a normal pace – one that actually went along with the soft, classical rhythm playing quietly in the plaza.

Many foot-stampings and hastily muttered 'sorry's later, I was spinning, laughing, stepping, with one are loosely flung around Dean's neck, and the other in his firm grip. Dean's other hand was rested lightly on my hip (gulp/sigh.)

I twirled under his arm again, fast, and catching glances of water, stone, fake grass, and dark, bright (I know, what?) sky, I felt totally… free.

Dean ended the spin with a melodramatic dip.

God, the above seen is from a cheesy romance novel. Or a fairy tale. That's what my life felt like right then: a story.


	4. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry this has been so long in coming. DH _did_ come out, though, so you should give me a break. There's also been a mixture of laziness and the worst kind of writers block involved – the kind where you know what's supposed to happen, but can't find the words. Ugh. This isn't very long at all, but it's to hold you guys over while I'm busy writing my other fics. Here you are, then…**

The Summer I Forgot to Change

8. Coffee

I stared at Embry, trying to compose my expression. I was sure it had to be flooded with a mixture of shock, half-hearted anger, and awe. In the end, though, awe conquered all – a smile broke out over my face.

"And…?" I prompted.

Embry seemed relieved. She let out a heavy sigh, "And his name is Bryan. He works at Starbucks. He's seventeen, he goes Preston, you know, the high school over by mall, and he's totally cute. Oh," she banged the tabletop with her palm, "and he spilled coffee on me. Mocha Capi'."

"Hot."

"I know, he really was. He has, like, sandy hair, Leonardo DiCaprio style. Ah…" Embry trailed off, sighing again.

"Actually," I said, smiling, "I was talking about the coffee, but –"

"Shut up," Embry mumbled quickly, kicking me under the table.

We were in Embry's kitchen again, which – though it looked exactly like mine – always seemed more welcoming. And we were sitting around the round, teak kitchen table in matching chairs.

"So, when are you seeing him again?" I asked at the same time that Embry inquired "What about that Dean guy?"

We laughed and answered together again:

"Were having coffee during his break tomorrow."

"We went to dinner. Ohmigod, it was amazing."

"You first," Embry scooted her chair in. Her eyes were filled with this greedy message that I read to mean: _I want __**all**__ the gory details._

**Review!**


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